Love Letter Lead
by XxReddShadowxX
Summary: Sometimes, when we don't find things out, it doesn't really affect us in any way. But then again, what's the fun in living for the future if you can't uncover a few secrets from the past? Shizuo finds a secret of Izaya's that he never expected, and can only respond with a single word, written on a paper that wasn't left unread, and maybe that was for the better? Oneshot/Shizaya/[T]


**Here is some more Shizaya, because it's been, like, a few days since the last completed oneshot for this pairing has been posted, and I think I may start experiencing withdrawals if this continues.**

* * *

Ten years ago, Ikebukuro was a safe place to live in.

That was before a boy of the name of Kishitana Shinra introduced Heiwajima Shizuo to Orihara Izaya.

The day the two men met was a disastrous one, and between the two, only two words had been spoken directly towards one another. They both remembered it like it happened merely the day before.

_You piss me off._

Even when they both triggered each other to kill one another, they didn't. It wasn't self-restraint, not at all. It was mere... coincidence, as they would say. They did not mean for the other to survive, yes, but that didn't mean that there might have been a little part of them that didn't want they to get hurt.

Was there?

No, the thought was something both of them refused to believe in. It was a pure cycle of loathing and hatred, something that simply couldn't be fixed.

* * *

Nevertheless, it hadn't always been this way. Their relationship was taken as one of 'unfinished business', including their strong desire to viciously murder one another. But it was different, at one point, but that was before they had formally been introduced to each other, as one may think. Still though, it was a single event that no one noticed, that no one remembered.

_Scribbled down in flawless cursive on a torn sheet of college ruled lined paper was a note, written with a brand new, expensive ink pen, by the likes of the one person nobody would ever think could feel that way. The only living being who knew about it was the one who wrote it, and it was meant solely for the eyes of the one it was addressed to._

_Breathing slowly, a raven haired teenage boy slipped through the empty corridors of Raira Academy, the high school in which he attended. Gripping the note carefully, so as not to wrinkle it, he peered cautiously into the window of a near door, closely observing the inhabitant of the nearly empty classroom. One bored, seemingly sleeping fake-blond sat in a desk near the back window of the room, head in his right hand, staring absently at the board. The room was completely void of anyone besides the boy, and the word 'detention' in capital letters had been written across the white board in black marker hastily. One may think there would be a teacher, but the brunet in which spied upon the trapped boy had taken care of them by disconnecting their car's parking break and rolling it quietly off the top of a hill and into the road._

_Pushing the doorknob down silently, the door swung slowly open and the lithe man walked in without a sound. Knowing that the taller, seated man was asleep, he seized the message he had written, and carefully slipping it into the fake-blond's pocket successfully, not waking him up at all. Standing back to study his face for a moment, the raven stared him up and down, reddish-brown eyes probing that his figure interestedly._

_Nodding his head once in silent acceptance of his deeds, the brunet skipped off, slamming the door behind him, and stirring the light-haired man from his idle slumber as he fled the room. Unaware of what had just happened- but very aware that the classroom was vacant of an instructor- he left the room, leaving for home, and completely unknowing of the note in his back pocket, one in which held a very important question._

_A question that was destined to remain unanswered._

* * *

The streets buzzed with nighttime city-life, and a certain bodyguard clad in a bartender's uniform and smoking a cigarette was wandering indolently about the streets, looking for nothing and no one in particular. Even if Ikebukuro was loud and reeked of smog and blood- not to mention was littered with countless gang fights- it was still home to Shizuo, and that wouldn't change, no matter how hard one tried to make it.

Tonight, the fake-blond was in a particularly good mood; he hadn't seen the flea- or Izaya- all day.

Suddenly jolted from his thoughts, a short and strong vibration in his left back pocket shook him back to reality. Discarding his cigarette idly, Shizuo pulled his orange flip-phone out of his black pants and answered whoever was calling him, which happened to be his beloved brother- Heiwajima Kasuka- at the time.

"Shizuo?" A monotone voice spoke through the end of the line.

"Yo." The older sibling responded nonchalantly, "What's up?"

"Mother and father are relocating to a more fitting estate, and they seem to have found some old belongings of yours in the house. I wanted to tell you so you could come and get them," The celebrity paused, "If you want them still, of course."

Shizuo had nothing better to do at the time, seeing as the flea was nowhere in sight and his boss- Tanaka Tom- had let him off for the rest of the day. What was the harm in looking through some old junk from his childhood, or whatever, anyhow?

"Sure, why not." He shrugged, stuffing a hand in his back pocket, "I've got nothin' better to be doin' anyways."

"That's great," Kasuka's voice emerged from the speakers, again, void of emotion, "I've sent them to your apartment already; I anticipated you saying yes already."

"Oh, okay then," Shizuo said, "Thanks."

"I have to go, my agent is on the other line right now." His brother told him, "He's been informing me of some new reality show I am wanted on at the moment, but I'm impartial for the time being. I have to go, though. I will speak to you later."

"Cool, later." Shizuo said, and then flipped his phone shut.

Through the entire conversation, he'd almost walked all the way to his complex, and was now scaling the staircase to his apartment. Inserting a brass key into the doorway, he shoved a large, sealed box into the room and shut the door, locking it and dragging the storage container into the living area.

His apartment wasn't very fancy, but it wasn't terrible either. In a word, it could be described as 'generic'. The ex-bartender didn't have all that much money, but he wasn't poor. He had enough though, and he supposed that was fine just as it was.

Lifting the box onto an old coffee table, Shizuo tore open the top and sifted through the box. There was nothing too interesting besides a few old picture frames with family photographs and a few school ones, a couple of used notebooks, a handful of broken cellphones (courtesy of none other than himself), an empty pack of cigarettes, and some musty school uniforms that were probably a size too small, due to his strange and rapid growth spurt that spontaneously happened to him after graduation.

"Tch, nothing worthwhile..." Shizuo mumbled, haphazardly folding a pair of old, blue uniform pants in his hands. Suddenly, a crinkled piece of paper slipped out and fluttered to the ground, catching his attention as it landed in his lap. Curious, the fake-blond placed the article of clothing aside and unfolded it, smoothing it out to reveal neat, inked cursive on a torn out sheet of lined paper.

Mocha-brown eyes skimming the text carefully, he read the writing, his eyes widening as he neared the end and viewed who it was written by. Shizuo muttered to himself, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling only to close his eyes thoughtfully.

"Holy shit..."

Grasping the paper tightly, he stuffed it in his pocket and slipped on his dark-colored shoes, running out the doorway and leaving the box of memories in his empty apartment, the words of the message still ringing in his head as he sprinted to a certain black-haired information broker's apartment complex in a rush.

* * *

_Shizuo, I don't really think that you know who I am, but I really want to get to know you. You fascinate me, actually. I want to meet you, but first... I think that I might like you. I'm kind of too scared to ask you, so..._

_Do you like me, Shizuo?_

_-Orihara Izaya_

* * *

Spinning indolently in his office hair and staring happily through a large window, Orihara Izaya observed ordinary civilians walking down an ordinary street living their ordinary lives. Oh, how he hated that word... 'ordinary' just sounded awfully boring to him. He would have been socializing or the like at the time, but he had told work assistant- Yagiri Namie- to take the rest of the day off, just because she was becoming tiresome. Listening to her troubles was amusing yes, but it got to be a bit tiring whenever she spoke of her complaints towards her 'sociopath of a boss'.

"This is so _boring__..._" The raven groaned, stretching his arms into the air and yawning disinterestedly, "I wish something interesting would happen right now, just so that I don't have to commit suicide out of this terrible boredom."

He smirked suddenly.

"Perhaps I should go and bother my lovely Shizu-chan tonight?" Izaya mused, preparing to stand to grab his jacket, in which he had discarded onto a black, leather sofa upon his arrival home after wandering about to watch his lovely humans.

Suddenly, a loud crashing noise erupted in the room, swinging the door open and nearly off of its hinges as a tall, fake-blond stormed in, slamming the door behind him.

"Ah," Izaya smiled, a bit surprised but not willing to show it, "What a fantastic surprise to see you here, Shizu-chan!"

"Shut it, flea." Shizuo shouted, walking straight up to the brunet and staring him down with a burning intensity that would make any normal grown man cower in fear. Sadly, Orihara Izaya was not a normal man.

Smirking coyly and reaching into his pocket from underneath his desk, the information broker froze. His precious flickblade was inside the pocket of his jacket, which was on the couch, behind Shizuo. Izaya silently cursed himself.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of-?"

"I said shut it, flea!" Shizuo growled, slamming a hand down on the desk and grabbing the raven's collar with the other, and drawing their foreheads close together so that they were nearly pressed against each other.

"Look," Izaya tried to reason, "I don't know what you're doing, but I at least would like to know why you're here. You can't just storm over here uninvited and- mnph!"

Pressing their lips together harshly, the taller blond kissed the brunet roughly, pulling the smaller one onto the desk and tying his muscular arms around his waist possessively. Unconsciously, Izaya wrapped his lithe arms around Shizuo's neck, completely giving up on fighting the beast after a moment of half-hearted trying. Dominating the submissive male powerfully, the fake-blond pushed against the smaller man harder while the raven placed his legs on either side of his own legs. Using a free hand to feel around the brunet's lower back and butt, he smirked, tonguing the inside of the others mouth as he pleased as his rolled their hips together harshly.

After a while, when the need for air became unbearable, they broke apart, Shizuo sitting upon the desk and placing Izaya in his lap as he bit quietly at his pale neck and feeling around absently with his hands, enjoying the deep pinkish-red hue resting on his face. He didn't intend on allowing the information broker speak clearly, although he wasn't complaining at the noises he was making.

"Shizu- aggghh...- I still don't kn- ngghhhh...- why you're- hah- here... g-goddammit can you s-stop- aaggh!- that!?"

"Nope." The fake-blond mumbled, smirking and marking the brunet even more with his mouth greedily, groping his hips and waist teasingly, "Never."

A while later, Shizuo attempted to remove Izaya from his lap when the raven began to think that bouncing up and down would be a terrific idea. Regretting his decision overall, but not wanted to give way to the other, Shizuo stood, staring strait at Izaya and handing him a crumpled up piece of paper before turning away slightly.

Unfolding the note, Izaya blushed slightly, reading the contents to himself and biting his lip in humiliation. He glanced up at the bodyguard as his blush intensified by another shade.

"Yes." Shizuo simply said.

"What?" Izaya asked, confusedly.

"I said," The fake-blond drew nearer, so close that their noses brushed as an uncharacteristically sincere smile of understanding graced both of their faces in realization before their lips met once again in anticipation. The paper fluttered to the desk, a sloppy response written upon the bottom of it with the tip of a broken pencil.

"Yes."

Answered in the smearing lead of a snapped pencil, a love letter was not left unrequited. So the question was answered after all, wasn't it? The answer was given by none other than the lead of a love letter, and that was sheer perfection in definition in the end.

* * *

**So there we go, a happy ending for all of you readers out there. Reviews are always appreciated, no matter what they are about, unless you want to flame me. In that case; don't like it? Then don't freaking read it next time.  
**

**Thanks for viewing, you guys are pretty radical.**

**-XxReddShadowxX**


End file.
